1
JUNE
The digital clock on her computer screen glowed 10:47 PM as June Carter finally saved the last document and closed her laptop. The offices of Dailey, Walsh & Associates had long since emptied, leaving only the hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of Miami traffic filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her corner office.
She rubbed her temples, feeling the familiar ache that came from staring at legal briefs for too many hours straight. The Martindale environmental case was proving more complex than she’d anticipated, with new evidence surfacing daily that required careful analysis. Three corporations were pointing fingers at each other over contaminated groundwater, and untangling the web of responsibility was like solving a puzzle where half the pieces kept changing shape.
June stood and stretched, her back protesting after being hunched over her desk since dawn. At fifty-nine, she couldn’t push herself the way she had in her thirties, but old habits died hard. Her father had always said that justice didn’t keep banker’shours, and she’d inherited both his work ethic and his stubborn streak.
The building felt different at night, her heels echoing against the marble floors of the reception area as she gathered her things. During the day, Dailey, Walsh & Associates buzzed with the energy of thirty-two attorneys and twice as many support staff. Now, the silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the whisper of the elevator carrying her down to the parking garage.
June slid into her silver Mercedes, grateful for the leather seats that seemed to embrace her tired body. The engine purred to life, and she sat for a moment, gathering the energy to drive home to Coral Gables. The thought of her empty house made her chest tight with loneliness.
Carmen wouldn’t be there tonight. Her sister had moved in with June after her husband, Joel’s, death six years ago, selling her own place and turning June’s sprawling family home into something that felt lived-in again. But tonight, short-staffed at the fire department, they’d called Carmen back to cover for the EMT Captain who was out sick. Even at sixty-four and officially retired, Carmen couldn’t say no when her old colleagues needed help.
The house would be dark and quiet, just like the nights after Trevor died eighteen years ago. June had thought she was past that kind of loneliness, but apparently, grief had a way of resurfacing when you least expected it. Maybe she should have sold the house years ago, downsized to something more manageable. But Willa had grown up in those rooms, taken her first steps in the kitchen, and celebrated every birthday in the backyard. Trevor’s presence still lingered in the study where he’d spent countless evenings preparing for cases, in the masterbedroom where they’d shared so many quiet mornings over coffee.
June shook off the melancholy thoughts and pulled out of the parking garage. Miami at night was a different creature than during the day, neon lights painting the streets in electric blues and pinks, the air still heavy with humidity and the scent of night-blooming jasmine from the landscaped medians.
Her stomach growled, a sharp reminder that she’d skipped both breakfast and lunch again. Carmen would scold her if she knew, and launch into one of her lectures about taking better care of herself. June glanced at the clock on her dashboard and made a mental calculation. Golden Dragon stayed open until midnight, and their beef and broccoli was exactly the kind of comfort food she needed tonight.
She turned onto Biscayne Boulevard, the familiar route to her favorite Chinese restaurant, automatic after years of late-night dinners. The traffic was lighter at this hour, mostly other professionals heading home after long days and young people heading out to South Beach for the kind of nightlife June hadn’t enjoyed in decades.
The light ahead turned yellow, and June slowed to a stop, already anticipating the steaming containers of food that would make her empty house feel a little less lonely. She was mentally reviewing her order when she noticed the headlights in her rearview mirror approaching too fast.
Time seemed to slow as she watched the sedan behind her show no signs of stopping. June’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, her body tensing as she realized what was about to happen. She barely had time to brace herself before the impact sent her car lurching forward into the intersection.
The world exploded in a symphony of crushing metal, shattering glass, and screaming brakes. June’s head snapped forward and back, her ribs connecting hard with the steering wheel despite her seatbelt. Pain shot through her left side as something sharp bit into her thigh, and the taste of copper filled her mouth.
Then there was silence.
June drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of voices around her but unable to focus on the words. Someone was calling her name, a familiar voice that seemed to cut through the fog in her head.
“June? June, can you hear me?”
She tried to open her eyes, but the world was spinning. That voice—she knew that voice.
“Carmen?” June’s own voice sounded strange and distant.
“I’m here, honey. I’m right here.” Carmen’s hand found hers, warm and steady. “You’ve been in an accident, but you’re going to be okay.”
“An accident?” June tried to sit up, but pain shot through her chest like lightning. “What happened?”
“Drunk driver rear-ended you,” Carmen said, her professional EMT voice overlaying her worried sister tone. “You’ve got a head injury and some broken ribs, but you’re conscious and talking, which is good.”
June tried to focus on Carmen’s face, but her vision kept blurring. “How are you here?”
“I was riding along with Rodriguez, one of our new EMTs. We got the call and—” Carmen’s voice caught. “Goodness, June, when I saw it was your car on the scene...”
“I’m okay,” June mumbled, though she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Everything hurt, from her pounding head to her aching ribs to the burning sensation in her left thigh.
“We’re going to get you to the hospital,” Carmen said. “Jackson Memorial has the best trauma unit in the city.”
June felt the stretcher begin to move, the sensation of being lifted into the ambulance making her stomach lurch. She caught a glimpse of her mangled Mercedes through the ambulance doors, and it was crumpled like an accordion. She felt a wave of dizziness that had nothing to do with her injuries.
“Thank you, Captain Grant,” she heard someone say. “We’ll take it from here.”
Take it where?June wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. The ambulance lurched into motion, sirens wailing, and the world faded to black again.
